A Challenge
by Anansay
Summary: Grissom's time is running out. He needs to make a decision before the last tick of the clock. [GSR]
1. Default Chapter

Challenge

by Anansay

August 27. 2003

He watched her walking away from him... again. Too late... what did that mean? He sighed, shut off the light and headed toward the door. There was nothing more he could do right now. There wasn't going to be any diner, he'd told her no. He shook his head, Now why did I do that? He asked himself. There was no answer. It had just come out. A safety response. Stay away... Don't get close... Keep the guard up. Yeah, that was it. Wasn't it? He didn't know.   
He walked by the lab and saw the destruction: the shards of glass that hadn't been picked up completely, the panes of windows like gaping holes in the walls. And everything gone. All their work gone in a matter of seconds.   
He stood on the spot, eyes glued to the area of destruction as though seeing it in a new light. In just a split second, the lab was gone, Greg was blown away and the evidence nullified even if it did survive the blast. And Sara was hurt. As he looked around at what remained he saw how so many times the same thing could have happened at any time, and with possibly deadlier results.   
When you figure it out, it just might be too late, she'd said before leaving. Too late... His body shivered with the thought.   
Too late... she might be with someone else.   
Too late... she might be gone.   
Too late... she might be... dead.  
He sighed again and heaving the briefcase in his hand he turned and continued on his way. He couldn't deny it any longer... Sara meant more to him than he cared to admit. Honey... it had slipped out before he realized it. He'd called her honey...! He pushed the door to the outside open and stepped into the bright sunlight. He squinted and looked up. The sun still rose and shone. Her car was gone. She was gone. Just like that. She'd asked him and then left. Just like that. He furrowed his brow and shook his head. No pining for her, she was too strong for that. He smiled, that's what he liked about her. She always bounced back much stronger from adversity.   
Sitting in his car, there was this odd sense of having been tossed into another dimension. Everything looked the same, but... it felt different. There was no way to really explain it; it was something he believed only he could sense. Sara had asked him out, and he'd said No. He hung his head and closed his eyes and her face appeared in his head. Her deep brown eyes looking up at him, pleading for him to just see, just feel what he felt. And yet, mingled with that pleading was this quiet strength. He saw her standing on her own two feet and peering over the precipice that was them. Her words never pled. Her stance was strong. And she didn't take his rejection to heart, only challenged him to qualify it. He saw her again, his strong, independent beautiful Sara. And he sighed.  
It was end of shift and he'd yet to see Greg in the hospital. No matter how much Greg irritated Grissom, there was something about the spunk and singular mannerisms that drew Grissom to him. The more he knew about Greg, the more his respect grew in increments. There was a lot more to that kid than Grissom had at first guessed. His contribution to the lab was immeasurable. He needed to see him.   


~*~  


He walked down the long, staid corridor of the hospital wincing at the familiar antiseptic smell. There was no denying in his mind the images that came when the smell hit him. Hospitals had never held much promise for him and being in one was something he only did when the need was absolutely undeniable.  
His breath caught in his throat when he saw the familiar brown hair. Sara was sitting on a chair beside the bed. Greg was awake; they were talking. Sara was leaning over, resting her forearms on her legs. Greg's head was resting on his hand as he listened to her. Then his hand reached out and patted Sara's hair. Grissom watched this with growing confusion. Since when were Greg and Sara close? Sara's hand took his and brought it down to the bed and held it there for a moment before releasing it.   
Grissom sighed and was about to turn away when Greg's voice called out to him. "Grissom?!"  
Grissom turned back saw that Greg was looking at him - and so was Sara - and smiled, coming into the room. "Hey Greg... Sara. Just thought I'd come by. Make sure you were okay."  
Greg smiled weakly. "Well... I'm alive. You get silence in the lab until I return. And I will return!"   
Grissom smiled too, but it was a small one. He saw Sara looking at him, but his eyes wouldn't go to hers. Greg was still looking at him. "Well, that's good. The lab needs you, Greg."  
"Oh, the lab does?"   
Grissom sighed. "Yes, Greg. The lab does." Oh god, here we go again!   
Sara stood up then and looked back down at Greg. "Well... I'm off. Catch ya later, Greg! Grissom," she said nodding in his direction.   
Grissom watcher her leave with a rising sense of panic. He looked back down at Greg who merely lifted an eyebrow and waited. Grissom fought the urge to turn around just to watch Sara leave, to see her just a bit longer. He sighed and sat down on the chair by Greg's bed, sitting back and crossing his legs and resting his hands on his lap. His eyes scanned the room and his hands fidgeted.   
Greg had always been a lab rat' to Grissom, someone who performed a service that in turn allowed Grissom to do his work. As much as Greg's eccentric ideas wore thin at time with Grissom, he was ultimately impressed with Greg's enthusiasm and pure joy in doing his work. It was truly a marvel to find someone who enjoyed running DNA samples all day – or night – long.   
Being head of night shift meant that all of the people who worked for Grissom were ultimately his responsibility. A member of his team had been injured and it was his duty as boss to ensure that his team remained whole and unharmed. So he found himself sitting by Greg's hospital bedside with nothing to say. There were no DNA samples for Greg to give to him, and the drugs had dulled Greg's perpetual comic mind to a flat monotone of grunts and monosyllabic answers.   
Greg was lying on his side to allow his wounded side to heal properly. His head rested on his hand and his eyes were half closed though he struggled to keep them open and focused. He barely moved. An unmoving Greg was something that just seemed very out of place. The young man had always seemed like an unending ball of energy, flying to and fro in his lab from one machine to another on his wheeled chair. This Greg that stared back at Grissom was a poor caricature of his former manic self.   
It hit Grissom was a force that caused him to look closely at Greg, probably for the first time since knowing him, and something shifted in him, a perspective that had remained hidden in the shadows until now.   
"How're you making out?" Grissom asked.   
"As good as could be expected, I guess," Greg said, his voice as weak as he looked.   
Grissom nodded. What could he say? There was nothing he could say to make Greg feel better, to heal faster, to take away the pain. "The doctor said that, uh, you'd be released in a few days. You'll back in your lab sooner than you know."  
Greg tried to grin, but it looked more like a grimace of pain. "Yeah, my lab." His eyes closed and for a moment Grissom thought he'd fallen asleep. He was just about to get up when Greg's eyes opened again. "How's Sara doing?"  
The mention of Sara's name brought back the same feelings as before. Her face appeared in his head as she'd looked standing in his doorway, eyes openly expectant, challenging and fearful at the same time. _it really could be too late. _"Uh, she's good. A few stitches in her hands and she's back to her same old self." Grissom had tried for an air of nonchalance, but he suspected that even in Greg's diminished mental capacity, he'd heard the feeling of remorse of Grissom's voice.   
"Good," said Greg. "I was worried about her. They told me she was standing right outside and got the brunt of the glass."  
"Her hand. It got cut. Like I said, a few stitches and she's back to her normal self."  
Greg eyes suddenly became an intense darkness that bore into Grissom's own and caught him. There were questions in Greg's eyes, and accusations. Grissom struggled for a moment with Greg's silent supplication before pulling his eyes away and staring down at his own hands.   
"I have to go, Greg. I, uh, have to get back to work."  
"It's always work isn't it?"  
Grissom's head spun back around and he glared at the young man. "What?"  
Greg's head turned a bit as he tried to better catch the older man's eye. "Work, you always hide in it."  
"Greg, what are you talking about?"  
Greg's eyelids slid over his eyes and his head moved in a shrug. "I don't know, must be the drugs talking" His words were slurred but Grissom had the faint impression the drugs weren't that strong. He squinted at Greg who appeared to have fallen asleep before turning around and leaving.   
When he got into the hallway, he saw a tall brunette heading toward the elevator. "Sara?"   
She turned around and faced him, a surprised look on her face as though she'd been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to do. "Uh, hey!" she said, the words sounding feeble even to Grissom's ears.   
"Were you here all this time?" Grissom asked as he fell into step with her and waited for the elevator.  
"Uh, yeah, I was considering getting Greg something from the gift shop downstairs but I don't think they have anything flashy enough that he'd like."  
Grissom grinned. "Yeah, I highly doubt that too."  
"So, did you have a nice talk with Greg?"  
He turned to look at her. "Yes. I did. Why?"  
"Nothing. It's good that you came. He looks up to you, you know."  
Grissom sighed. "So I've heard," he mumbled.   
"Well, it's true. Accept it."  
"Grudgingly."  
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Grissom and Sara both stepped forward at the same time and bumped shoulders. "Uh, you first."  
"Why, cause I'm a lady?" Sara asked, stepping back from the door.  
Grissom sighed, shook his head and stepped into the elevator first. "Even being nice is considered sexist these days."  
Sara smirked and joined him. The doors closed, sealing them in the moving box as it brought them to the first floor. They stood in their separate corners like scolded children, their eyes not meeting. The air felt like a catacomb, silent and oppressive, as though the slightest noise might bring to light that which ought to remain suppressed. Grissom glanced up at the shifting numbers. Sara stared hard at the door, her hands gripping each other tightly. In time, a long time it seemed to both of them, the door dinged again and slid open to reveal the busy hallway and the doors to the outside. This time Sara stepped out first, her long legs carrying her quickly away from the claustrophobic box. Grissom hurried up to her and grabbed her arm. Sara spun around and stared at him, her eyes going from her arm to his.   
"Sara... can we talk?"  
Her eyebrow rose and her head tilted to the side. "About what?"  
"Uh us?"   
"Us?"  
Grissom sighed. "Listen, I know I... about that dinner..."  
Her lips pulled up but it was only a muscle movement. Her face remained placid. "Grissom, I'm tired. I'm going home to sleep. It's been a long day." And she turned around, pulling her arm from his grasp, and was gone by the time Grissom realized what had just transpired. He'd brought up her offer and she had rejected it. He closed his mouth and began walking after her, though staying his distance. Their cars were in the same parking garage, but he let her have her space. His mind wandered back to the scene he'd witnessed in Greg's room. He wondered at the essence of the conversation between Greg and Sara. She'd seemed quite relaxed with him, leaning over as though she were talking about something important to her. What had been exchanged? Was she talking about him? No.   
No, that's what he'd said. He'd said No. To Sara. He sighed again and spotted his car.   
In his car, he once again hung his head in confusion. She had broached the subject with absolute eloquence, never faltering in her voice or her stare. And he had pushed her away... again. 

~*~

The group was in the breakroom. Grissom was standing and handing out the assignments. Catherine was paired with Warwick and Nick while Grissom chose to have Sara work with him. She glanced up once, questions in her eyes, but had said nothing.   
When they were in the car, Grissom turned to Sara. She was staring out the window, a small smile on her lips as though there was nothing to worry about at all. He frowned and turned from her. He'd been a fool. He had rejected the one person he so desperately wanted in his life.   
With slow methodical movements, he started the car and pulled out. There as no more denying it, he was smitten. And he had waited too long.

~*~

Copyright © 2003 Anansay


	2. Chapter 2

There was a sense of urgency, voices propelling him forward. He lurched and stumbled and almost lost his balance. The voices were still there, Go Grissom... run... as fast as you can... you need to go... now... There was no denying them, theirs was a power beyond his ken. Obeying was his only option. So he ran, but he ran blindly, arms flailing, feet stumbling. He couldn't see where he was going; he'd never been here before. He was a blind man running somewhere he'd never been before. This was insane! Something scratched at his legs, tearing his clothes. His hands bled from striking unseen hooks and brambles. But the voices wouldn't let him stop. They only got louder and more insistent if he dared slow down. His chest was heaving and his heart was pounding and saliva was flying from his mouth. His legs screamed their bloodless agony but he went on... and on... and on...

  
He sat bolt upright in bed, gasping. The sheets were pooled around his legs and his skin was clammy with drying sweat. Light was dimming in his room and he could just make out the forms of his furniture. His breathing returning to normal, he glanced at the clock: two hours before shift started. Two hours to see Sara. Two hours and Greg was still in the hospital. And he only barely spoken with him yesterday. He shut his eyes against the knowledge that someone was going to have words with him when he got to work. At least she'd gone to talk to him herself, not hiding behind a report that Greg would eventually hear about.   
He sighed and swung his legs to the side of the bed and got up. A quick shower and a change of clothes and he was done. So easy when you're man, he thought with a smug grin. A cup of coffee to wake up the mental synapses and he was out the door. It may be one and a half hours before shift started in actuality, but for Grissom, shift never really ended. He just went home to catch a few private winks before returning to work. Like another particular workaholic that he knew would be listening in on her radio, a forensic journal in one hand, and a notebook in another. The perpetual criminologist. He smiled, and a warm memory permeated his mind at finding her asleep in the breakroom, the sun's early morning rays making a golden halo in her hair and lending a surreal aura to her resting body...   
They'd been fine then, no real tension. They could work together and be fine, putting their personal feelings aside for the sake of the case. They were good at that, both of them. But now... it was different. He'd pushed her away, but she'd come back and now it was out in the open. This. It was there, always had been and probably always would be if it could survive three years of stagnation. To acknowledge it and go from there or let it die a mournful death and possibly die with it. No, his mind had been made up. He would talk with her. If only she'd listen...

~*~

Of course, as predicted, twenty minutes before shift was due to start , a head appeared around the corner of his door. He looked up to see Catherine staring at him as she leaned against the door frame, smiling. "Catherine. Is there something I can do for you?  
Seeing this as a welcome, she walked in, took a seat and got to the point. "Have you been in to see Greg yet?"   
"Yes, I have."   
"Good." She sat back in her chair, not taking her eyes of him.   
He returned her stare. "Was there anything else?" His curt manner had always allowed him to get the time he wanted to himself. But this woman hadn't ever taken well to the tactic. And, of course, she certainly wasn't going to start today.   
She sat and stared at him, her shiny blue eyes twinkling in the subdued lighting of his office and her lips just itching to smile, or so it seemed.   
"Catherine? Was there anything else?"   
And then she smiled, a curiously broad smile that made her look slightly fiendish if he hadn't know her all these years. He felt his eyes twitch as fought the urge to look away, and met her grin with a serious face of his own, an eyebrow raised in silent question. "Well, if that's all, I have a little bit more to do before I join you in the breakroom." And with that he dismissed her with head bowed toward the papers on his desk. From this position, he heard her get up and leave and when he was sure she was really gone, he raised his head and stared at the doorway, as though it held the answer to her curious actions.   
In the breakroom, he found his team. His team. It had always had a peculiar feeling to it. And even though he didn't really feel as though he were their leader, he tried to take his newfound status seriously and at least attempted to run a tight ship, even though he knew his leadership skills were questioned as he tended to loose himself in the work more than leading the team.   
Catherine was tossing a ball in the air and catching it absentmindedly. Nick and Warrick were huddled in the corner, no doubt discussing their latest bet on whatever minor case was open at the moment. Sara sat quietly in the chair in the corner, staring off into space, her mind undoubtedly on whatever case was still open for her.   
It never ceased to amaze him how her mind was a constant flurry of activity, day and night. Her eyes constantly searching her surroundings for evidence of... what exactly? He loved how her body was ever present for action, ready to go at a moment's notice. It has always been his favourite part of her being, her never ending quest for the truth in life, and her choice in forensics had pleased him greatly, not only because he could train her up to be the best in the field, but another part of his mind quietly reminded him on various occasions, it also allowed him to be with her much more than he'd dared hope. Her inquisitive mind and her probing questions, going deeper and deeper than most people were willing to go, were a refreshing change from the staid and safe questions usually posed by students and laymen alike.   
But now she sat in a corner, quietly observant, avoiding eye contact with those around her. Catherine was still tossing that ball. Where did that ball come from? For a moment, just a moment, he almost felt as though he'd stepped into a Rod Sterling universe where tossing balls in the air was a form of hypnotism as Catherine seemed not to want to stop anytime soon, and Nick and Warrick seemed not to notice him, and Sara was the resident zombie, staring aimlessly ahead.   
He blinked and shook himself and Catherine caught the ball and turned to her boss - with a smile. Nick and Warrick both turned around, "Hey Grissom!" they said in unison. Sara glanced at him once and then turned away again. No one noticed. No one except Grissom, it seemed. He shrugged and began handing out assignment sheets. In short, everyone had to work on their cases already open as the crooks of Las Vegas decided to let them catch up before new ones were thrown their way. How nice.   


~*~

Grissom caught Sara in the lab peering over evidence laid out on the illuminated table. Her hair hung past her face obscuring his sight of her. Body bent over, gloved fingers holding a piece to her face on the other side of a magnifying glass, she appeared for all intents and purposes like the studious scientist in those comics. The piece was gently laid back down and another picked up. Her attention being totally absorbed in retaining all the tiny minute details of each piece for later retrieval.   
He couldn't move, his feet wouldn't obey. He knew he should move forward, go to her, check up on her progress, but he was totally absorbed in his observation of her. Nothing existed for him but the sight of Sara working, engrossed in her flights of fancy as she created a mental picture of what each piece could mean to the case. Like a puzzle, deciphering each piece's meaning and where it might fit in it.   
She moved. She stood up and turned to him, her brown eyes distorted behind the plastic safety glasses. She stared at him a moment before removing them and showing him her true self. He caught himself and came forward, his eyes going to the evidence on the table. Staring at her like that would definitely get him into trouble in this place. He stood beside her and stared at the evidence, keeping his eyes away from hers. He looked but he didn't see, the pieces were a jumble of shapes and colours and their significance eluded him.   
The hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle and he could feel her eyes on him, boring into him. He knew she was looking at him, waiting for something a bit more significant than a glance at her evidence. There were words in his throat that wanted to come out, but they were stuck. Stuck behind his anxiety.   
"Well?" she said.   
He tensed, and stood up, not looking at her. "Well... it looks good." His voice came out low and rough and he swallowed.   
He saw her body turn toward him, and knew her eyes were staring right at him, challenging him to do something. He looked at her from the corner of his eyes before turning his body to match hers. She continued staring at him, her lips pursed tightly, a hand on her hip, leaning on the other one that rested on the table, chin slightly raised. A challenge.   
He saw the fire in her soul, the fire that would never allow itself to be tempered, never allow itself to be tamed, never allow itself to be dulled to embers. Her chin jutted out, tilting her head upward slightly. She would not back down. He had come into her space and now she trapped him there with her fierce determination. He felt himself caught in her flame, a willing observer and captive of her impetuous zeal. And he forgot to breathe.   
"So?"  
The words tumbled among each other, but stayed put. "Uh..."   
And then she smiled and he was taken aback by it. Not because of its beauty, but because of something else. Catherine had smiled like that. Did all the women have these special grins they brought out to show the men they knew more than they were putting on? He blinked and her smile changed. It had relaxed into a more genuine smile. And he remembered why she'd been on his mind lately. Dinner.   
"Uh Eat You Me "  
Her eyebrows rose as her smile fell from her face. "You want me to eat you?"   
"NO!" he said, a little too loudly, before his face flushed beet red and he lowered his head. "Uh" he sighed. "Dinner."  
"Dinner?"  
He bit his lip as he tried to form at least one coherent sentence in his mind that would translate as such when it would reach his mouth. He took a big breath, held it, and let it out slowly, biting his lips. And decided, all or nothing... it's never too late, right? Well... hopefully now was not too late. "You... were talking about dinner yesterday..."  
She nodded slowly, the smile leaving her face. "Yes, I was."   
He tried to discern the meaning behind those three little words. "Well... is the offer still there?"  
And the smile returned, though she tried to hide it. "It is."  
"Can I... take you up on it?"   
She tilted her head and regarded him as he would regard an interesting new specimen of insect. "When?"  
He looked around himself, thinking. "Tomorrow? We both have it off."|  
And she smiled again, a genuine smile that reached her eyes and made then dance. "Tomorrow. Seven?"  
He returned her smile. "Seven. I'll pick you up."  
"'K."   
With one last look, he turned on his heels and left her to her evidence and headed to his office. A queer feeling fell over him and he couldn't quite place it. It wasn't like when they solved a particularly challenging case or when he finally discovered the name of an new insect or even won a debate. This was much different. His skin prickled all over and made him want to jiggle and dance down the hallway. There was an energy coursing through his veins, it was a mild burning sensation, not wholly unpleasant, just different.   
He got to his office and sat in his chair. And just sat, his hands steepled beneath his chin. Then he realized what it was he was feeling. Elation. 

**~*~**

Copyright © 2003 Anansay


End file.
